


On Faith

by suilven



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 20:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suilven/pseuds/suilven
Summary: She’s the same age and it’s all Scully can think about as she strokes the slightly damp curls that cling to her daughter’s forehead. Her skin is warm with sleep, the edge of her fist still partly jammed into her mouth for comfort. Post-My Struggle IV.





	On Faith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyouryokusenshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyouryokusenshi/gifts).

> Prompt: Post-My Struggle IV. Mulder & Scully's 1 year old daughter has some type of congenital defect or illness that requires major surgery. Scully and Mulder are terrified. What's wrong with her and how do they get through it together? Scully has flashbacks to when she told Mulder she was pregnant. Angst with a happy ending. Bonus points for lots of Mom!Scully and Dad!Mulder. (no deaths please)

She’s the same age and it’s all Scully can think about as she strokes the slightly damp curls that cling to her daughter’s forehead. Her skin is warm with sleep, the edge of her fist still partly jammed into her mouth for comfort. Why suck your thumb when you can have a whole hand? No half measures for this one, that’s for sure.

She knows she should go to bed, should try to get some sleep with how early they need to be up tomorrow to be at the hospital for 5:30, but it’s impossible. Her heart was torn in a way that no person should have to go through after William, and the thought that fate might put her through something similar a second time makes her want to vomit, to collapse to the floor next to the crib and weep. The thing is, she’s still broken inside from fractures that can never heal, no matter how much time has passed.

Norah takes a sniffly breath and sighs. She’s a noisy sleeper, just like her brother was. They should have moved the crib out of their bedroom and into the nursery long ago, but the comfort of her little whimpers and snores—not to mention the convenience of being able to feed her more easily in the middle of the night—was hard for her to want to give up. A few months turned into six and another handful of ‘just one more month’s’.

“Hey, thought I might find you here.” Mulder keeps his voice quiet as he comes up to stand beside her. “I brought you some tea.”

“Thanks.”

He hands her the cup and she takes a sip. Steam is still curling up from the surface, but it’s not too hot to drink as long as she’s careful. Together they look down on the sprawled out form of their daughter, their second unexpected miracle.

The only light in the room is from the nightlight on her bedside table, a soft yellow glow just enough to keep them from tripping over things when they get ready for bed themselves or change a midnight diaper, but not enough to wake the baby.

“I hope she doesn’t wake up and want to nurse,” she whispers as Norah purses her lips and then relaxes.

“If she does, I’ll get her. She seems to have figured out that I’m not a food source.”

“I know. I know it’s only for one night.”

His hand slides over top of hers on the railing of the crib, and his thumbs traces circles over her fingers.

She sips her tea, leaning against his side. “I wish we didn’t have to do this.”

“I can’t imagine there’s anyone who would.”

“She’s still so small.”

His arm winds around her shoulders as he pulls her in closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You told me yourself that Karen is one of the best pediatric urologists in the country. She’s going to be in the best hands we can give her. Just think—no more kidney infections. No more urinary tract infections. No more constant antibiotics.”

Her voice is small. “I know.” With her free hand she rubs Norah’s belly. She had terrible gas pains when she was younger, and rubbing her stomach had always seemed to soothe her. Mulder dressed her after her evening bath, so she’s wearing his favourite pair of sleepers; pale blue with rocket ships and stars. “But there’s always a chance something could go wrong.”

“Hey.” He gently takes the mug of tea from her hands and sets it down on the change table before turning her towards him and enveloping her in his arms. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that.” Her voice is muffled against his shirt.

“No, I don’t. But we can choose to believe that it will.” The rumble of his voice against her hair is comforting, and she hugs him a little more tightly than usual, breathing in the familiar scent of him.

Eventually, he tugs her towards the bed. “We should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“I’m not going to sleep,” she murmurs stubbornly as they spoon up under the covers and he wraps himself around her.

“Just close your eyes and try to rest then.”

“Is the alarm set?” She knows it is—on the alarm clock and with backup alarms on both of their phones—but she has to ask. The diaper bag is already packed and by the front door.

“Yes.”

She doesn’t expect to fall asleep, but she does.

* * *

Through some divine intervention, Norah sleeps through the night, too. She’s been sleeping through more frequently now, but it’s still unpredictable.

She fusses when they wake her and change her diaper, making cranky half-cries of displeasure at being woken up on someone else’s terms rather than her own. By the time they buckle her into her car seat, she’s progressed to a full out wail, and it makes Scully’s stomach knot up.

“You drive.” She tosses the car keys at Mulder as she slings the diaper bag over her shoulder. “I’ll sit in the back seat with her.”

The motion of the car calms Norah somewhat, but she cries in earnest each time they have to stop for a red light.

Scully reads her the board books they’ve brought with them—a good distraction for both of them as she loses herself in the cadence of the words she’s read hundreds of times.

_In the great green room, there was a telephone. And a red balloon. And a picture of the cow jumping over the moon._

Her mother had read it to her. And she had read it to William. And now, it was Norah’s turn. On every page, she searched for the little mouse and pointed him out. And Mulder drove, trying to pace their speed so they would make it through on as many green lights as they could.

* * *

She manages to hold herself together as they go through admitting. Norah is all smiles now as Mulder walks her up and down the hallway beside the admitting desk. They’re in the pediatric wing, so there are colorful decals of Winnie-the-Pooh and Spongebob on the walls. She makes happy squeals as Mulder bounces her along in his arms.

“Ma’am?” The desk clerk is staring at her expectantly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question.”

“It’s okay. Completely understandable under the circumstances.” He gives her a compassionate smile. “Does she have any allergies?”

She shakes her head. “No. Not that we know of.”

“And she’s had nothing to eat or drink since midnight, correct?”

“Yes.”

“All right, I think that’s everything. Let me get her bracelet printed off and we’ll send you upstairs for prep. Oh, wait—is she bringing a stuffed animal with her?”

“Yes, um…” She fumbles in the diaper bag, pulling out a well-loved green frog. “This one’s her favourite.”

“Perfect.” The clerk smiles at her again and she’s struck by how young he looks. “I’ll print that little guy a matching bracelet so they can stay together.”

She gestures for Mulder the next time he and Norah come past the desk, and the clerk affixes an identification bracelet around her chubby wrist, which she promptly tries to suck on, and one around froggy’s arm as well.

Scully takes Norah from Mulder and they take the elevator up to the third floor. The baby’s squirming, trying to wiggle her way back over into Mulder’s arms but she needs this right now, needs to feel the solidity of her as she takes a few deep breaths before the elevator doors open.

The woman at the desk looks up at them as they approach. Her eyes are kind, crinkling up at the edges as she waves at Norah, who promptly buries her head into Scully’s neck in response.

“Hi, this is Norah Mulder.” Scully is grateful to Mulder for speaking, she’s too busy breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and trying to hold it in her mind.

“Of course. Ian called from admitting to say you were on your way. Let’s get you all ready to go.”

She ushers them down the hall to a small room. In a way, Scully is glad she doesn’t practice at this hospital, that no one knows her aside from a handful of doctors that also do rounds at Our Lady of Sorrows. She doesn’t think she has it in her right now to pretend that everything’s fine when it’s not.

“My name is Maggie,” the woman says and both she and Mulder flinch, “and I’ll be here for you once your little one is in recovery as well, so you can just ask for me if I’m not at the desk.” She doesn’t look anything like her mother physically, but the warmth in her eyes feels familiar.

The room is similar to a doctor’s examination room although the lights are less bright and there’s a rocking chair in the corner of the room. Maggie opens one of the cabinet drawers and pulls out a small nightgown with pale yellow and white stripes.

“You can change her into this. Everything else off, but you can leave her diaper on.” Scully takes the garment, feeling suddenly lost.

“Do you want me to do it?” Mulder asks, but she shakes her head. She can do this. Everything is going to be fine.

She lays Norah out on the bed and begins unbuttoning the snaps on her sleeper one by one. She tries to wriggle away, but Scully distracts her by tickling her belly and she laughs, a full throated giggle that makes Scully’s heart slip into her throat. She can’t help but remember the look on Mulder’s face the first time they’d heard her laugh.

She no longer remembers what William’s baby laugh sounded like, but she acutely remembers how much she’d wished Mulder was there the first time it happened. She swallows past the lump in her throat and the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Norah is so lucky—_they_ are so lucky to have a chance to do this again, together this time. But that doesn’t keep her from wishing that things had been different so many years ago, that he could have stayed William. _Their_ William.

In her heart, she’s sure that Jackson is still out there somewhere, that he’s learned the tricks of cheating death from his father—after all, there probably isn’t anyone as good at it as Mulder is—but it could never be the same. The Van de Kamps raised him, loved him, guided him. Her decision to give him up would always be between them. Even if he might forgive her, she knows she could never truly forgive herself.

“Da da da da,” Norah babbles happily as Mulder slides her feet out of her sleepers one at a time while Scully frees her arms. She slips the striped gown over her head and hands her to Mulder before folding up the sleeper and tucking it into the side pocket of the diaper bag.

“Now,” Maggie says, “we’re just going to put a bit of this numbing gel on the tops of her feet and the backs of her hands.” She’s clearly done this before with many equally active children, as she has no trouble smearing it on all the right spots and then covering them with clear tape. “She will have the gas to put her to sleep before they put the IV in, but this is just in case, so she won’t feel it if she’s still a little bit aware.”

Like a puppy, Norah immediately tries to stuff her fist into her mouth, crinkling up her nose at the tape. Maggie beams at her.

“Silly girl. That’s not for eating.” She shakes her head, but Norah just seems more determined.

“Trust me, if she can fit it in her mouth, it’s going in her mouth.” Mulder delicately tugs her hand away from her face and Norah gives him the look that he likes to call ‘classic Scully.’ “You should have seen her when she discovered her feet. She was rolled up like a pill bug for weeks trying to eat her own toes.”

Maggie chuckles. “My oldest was like that. He’s twenty-seven now though… where does the time go? So, your next stop is the pre-op waiting area where Dr. Psooy will review the procedure with you and you can sign the consent forms.” Scully moves to lift the diaper bag, but Maggie stops her. “Oh, you can leave that here if you like, dear. This will be your room once she’s out of recovery and there’s no sense lugging it around if you don’t need to.”

Scully nods mechanically and drops the bag back down beside the bed, and then Maggie leads them to a nondescript waiting room where there are two other sets of parents and two similarly gowned children in yellow and white stripes. The oldest, a boy of around three, is pushing a tiny car around on the floor, winding it in and out of the chair legs. Norah is immediately fascinated and stares at the motion intently.

She meets the eyes of the boy’s mother and sees herself there. Worry. Exhaustion. Wishing she could shoulder this burden instead of her child. She nods at her in understanding, and then leans over to press a kiss to Norah’s wet cheek.

After a few minutes, a familiar woman in scrubs approaches them. “Dana, Fox,” she holds out her hand for each of them to shake before tickling Norah under her chin. “Let’s step out into the hallway and we’ll go over everything.”

Once they’re outside the waiting room, Dr. Psooy hands Scully a clipboard and a pen before addressing them. She’s calm and confident, and Scully knows she’s done this exact same procedure on hundreds of children. It’s one of the most common congenital abnormalities, and they’re fortunate—both Norah’s kidneys are the proper size and shape and appear to be functioning normally. She’s having the surgery now, before any damage to her renal function can occur.

This knowledge doesn’t do anything to alleviate the heaviness in her heart as she scans through the list in front of her and begins checking off boxes.

“Now, I know you know the risks of general anesthetic as well as I do, but please take your time going through the checklist and feel free to ask me any questions.” Dr. Psooy looks back and forth between the two of them as she talks. “I expect the procedure will take three or four hours based on what we saw on the MRI. We’re going to repair the blockage in her ureters, which will stop the backflow of urine into her kidneys. She’ll have a small incision just below her ribs and a drainage tube for seven to ten days while everything heals. I know this seems terrifying, but she’ll be back to normal in no time at all. Children are much more resilient than we give them credit for, and they bounce back much faster than adults.”

Scully’s reached the bottom and she scrawls her signature and today’s date on the line for parent/guardian consent. She knows the risks, knows that her daughter’s life will be better for having done this. It doesn’t make this any easier. She hands the clipboard back.

“I’m heading down to the OR to scrub up. One of the OR nurses will be by to collect Norah shortly.”

She manages a nod, not trusting her voice. Karen pats her shoulder kindly. “It will be okay. We’re going to take extra good care of her in there. I promise.”

They go back into the waiting room and Scully is glad she hasn’t eaten since dinner last night or she would be throwing up right now. Mulder bounces Norah on his knee—she’s happy to watch the little boy with his car again— but his hand finds hers and they clutch each other’s fingers with a panicked desperation. This is really happening, the day they’ve been dreading at the back of their minds since right after she was born. The next few hours are going feel like years.

Scully holds Norah’s frog in her lap, unconsciously stroking his green nubbly fur.

She’s on the verge of tears when a nurse arrives, but it’s for the little boy—Eric—not for them, not yet.

“I don’t want to do this.” She knows she sounds like a petulant child, railing against the fact that the world isn’t fair, but, dammit, why them? Couldn’t they have one thing—just one fucking thing—that was easy?

“Neither do I,” he murmurs back. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it, but his eyes are fixed on the wisps of red curls that are finally starting to grow on their daughter’s head. “How do parents do this, the ones who have sick kids, really sick ones, who have to go through surgery after surgery? Or chemo? How do they watch their kids suffering, knowing it’s helping them but knowing that they don’t understand why it always has to hurt?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I guess… what do you do when you don’t have a choice?” She pictures the trusting glow in William’s eyes as she’d handed him over to the social worker and for a moment she’s right back there, choking on her grief and despair. “You just push through. What else can you do?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Mulder?” A woman in navy blue scrubs steps into the room. “We’re ready for Norah now. If you’ll follow me, we’ll go together down to the OR waiting area.”

She’s amazed she can still stand as they walk down the twists and turns of another pastel-coloured hallway and take an elevator down two floors. She’s surprised as they step around a corner to find several child-sized electric cars, a bike, and two tricycles.

The nurse notices her looking and grins. “We let the older children drive or ride themselves to the OR doors. Try to keep things as un-scary as possible.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mulder says. “Too bad you’re too little for those, squirt.”

There’s another long straight corridor. Another turn.

“The waiting room is just through that door,” they pause as the woman points to their left, “and I’ll be taking Norah this way.” A pair of wide double doors looms at the end of the hallway.

She and Mulder turn to each other. This is it. She engulfs Norah and Mulder in a huge hug, kissing her sweet baby cheeks as she hands her her frog. Mulder whispers, “We love you, sweetheart,” but she can’t say anything, her words are broken glass, stuck in her throat. She’s afraid that if she opened her mouth right now, all that would come out is a wail.

Mulder hands Norah over into the waiting arms of the nurse—they’d talked about this already and he knows she can’t be the one to do this. She did it once and she’s never recovered, not really. She cannot do it again.

She makes herself watch as her second child vanishes behind the steel doors; she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if something happened and she hadn’t.

Only when Mulder has her in the safety of his arms does she allow herself to cry.

* * *

They join the other lost souls in this new waiting room. Eric’s parents are there, as are a few others. A TV mounted to wall is showcasing the latest daytime talk shows, but no one is watching. There are crumpled stacks of magazines on the tables that no one is reading. They all mostly just sit. And stare. And wait.

Mulder lasts about fifteen minutes before he starts to get twitchy. He keeps looking at his watch as if he’s willing the time to go by more quickly.

“There’s no point,” she says gently, resting her hand on his knee. “She said three or four hours.”

“I know.” He lets out a weighted sigh and leans forward in his chair. “I just don’t know what we’re supposed to do with ourselves. All I’m doing is thinking about what’s happening to her right now and it’s scaring the hell out of me.”

“I know. Me, too.” She rests her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes. She feels the weariness right down into her bone marrow, eroding her from the inside. “Why don’t you go get us some coffee?”

He puts his hand over hers and squeezes. “All right.”

They drink terrible hospital cafeteria coffee and pick at a stale bran muffin. They watch parents leave and new parents arrive. After two hours, a nurse comes for Eric’s parents and they’re now officially the ones who have been here the longest.

“Are you okay here if I go to the chapel for a few minutes?” she says, checking her watch. It’s going to be another hour at best.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

She leans down to kiss him and she can see the grey shadows under his eyes that match her own. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she whispers against his lips.

“I hope you’re right,” he murmurs back.

* * *

The hospital chapel isn’t far, not surprising that they would have it in close proximity to the OR. It has wide windows on two of the walls, flooding the whole space with natural light. For the first time today, she feels a sense of calm. She sits down in one of the chairs and closes her eyes, her hand instinctively coming up to hold the tiny cross on the chain around her neck.

She tries to pray, but she doesn’t even know where to begin, so she tries to empty her mind instead. She’s been working at meditating lately, but it doesn’t come easily to her. She pictures the white light behind her eyes, imagines it flowing into her, filling her up, lighting her up from within.

Walking into the drugstore, feeling like a teenager who’s just had sex for the first time, as though everyone in the store is staring at her as she makes her way down the aisle with condoms and lubricants and pregnancy tests. She can’t be—she’s _not_—it’s too ridiculous to contemplate, but she’s late and nauseous, falling asleep every night before eight o’clock because she physically can’t keep her eyes open. She’s not and it’s impossible. But, she buys a test anyway.

She can’t wait until morning, even though it might be more accurate, and does it after dinner.

Two lines. Two distinct pink lines. Her hands are shaking when she drives to the store, picking a different drugstore this time and she buys one of every brand. It isn’t until she’s done them all: pink lines, blue plus signs, and digital displays saying ‘Pregnant’ that she starts to cry.

She isn’t sure how she’s going to tell him before everything goes to shit and she becomes desperately afraid that Mulder isn’t going to get to know this baby either. When they lose Jackson, she barely processes the loss at first, too distraught at the anguish she sees in Mulder’s eyes. She needs to pull him back from the edge; they’ve fought so hard to find each other again and she will not lose her Mulder. She will _not_ let the darkness claim him again.

So, she presses his hand to her belly. “You _are_ a father,” she whispers fervently and watches the understanding dawn in his eyes.

He’s here for this pregnancy, for all of it. The morning sickness and mood swings, the cravings and swollen feet and endless doctor’s appointments. Together, they weep for Jackson, for the baby they’d tried so hard to protect, just as they celebrate and marvel over this unexpected miracle growing within her.

She remembers Mulder sitting in the chair next to her bed in the hospital, staring transfixed into the blue eyes of their red wrinkly newborn daughter like she was the most wondrous thing he’d ever seen.

The way Norah’s chin quivers when she’s about to cry. Just like William’s had.

Norah’s first word—‘no’—that had made Mulder laugh. “Like mother, like daughter,” he’d said with a cheeky grin and she’d swatted him on the shoulder in response.

“Please, God,” she whispers into the stillness that has heard so many desperate prayers, “please keep her safe for us. Please.”

* * *

She returns to the waiting room clutching two more cups of awful coffee. Mulder looks up anxiously as she enters, giving her a weak smile as she comes to sit down next to him. There’s yet another set of worried-looking parents occupying two of the other chairs.

“Did it help?” he asks, taking his cup from her.

“A little.”

“Nothing yet?” She settles her purse at her feet and folds back the plastic tab on her lid so she can take a careful sip. It’s already burning her fingers through the paper cup.

He sighs and shakes his head. “Nothing yet.”

When they cross the four hour mark, Mulder’s restless energy has become infectious. They shift in their chairs, drum their fingers on the metal arm rests. Anything to keep their eyes off their watches or the sweeping red second hand of the clock on the wall. The TV programs change, their companions in the waiting room change, but they are stuck here in a kind of stasis while the world flows past. It reminds her of their time on the USS Ardent… not exactly a comforting thought.

Her coffee has gone cold when they reach five hours, and her fingers ache from involuntarily clenching and unclenching them. Her breasts feel firm and a bit tender. Norah doesn’t nurse a lot anymore, but it’s been long enough that she’s starting to feel uncomfortably full.

She shivers and draws her coat around her shoulders. Mulder notices and puts his arm around her, drawing her as close as he can with the arms of their chairs between them. He runs a warm hand up and down the side of her arm.

“What’s taking so long?” He’s worried. He’s scared. He can’t hide it from her; she knows him too well after all their years together.

She tries to keep her voice steady, to keep her own anxieties at bay. “It could be anything. Surgery is always unpredictable, despite all the advances in imaging. You can never fully estimate the intricacy of the work, or how a patient’s body is going to respond.”

He rests his head against the top of hers. “Is there any way we can ask someone? Get an update?”

“Unfortunately, no. We just have to trust them to do their jobs.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Just take it on faith, huh?”

She reaches over to take his hand in hers, stroking his fingers. “Sometimes, that’s the only option available."

* * *

By hour six, Mulder can no longer be contained and he’s pacing the length of the waiting room like a lion in a cage, back and forth. She throws out their unfinished coffees and wishes her mother was here.

Finally… finally, the door opens and it’s Dr. Psooy. “Dana? Fox? You can come with me.”

She bolts out of her chair, grabbing her purse as an afterthought, and meets Mulder at the door. Dr. Psooy waits for them in the hallway.

“We’re going to go to a small meeting room first.” She quickly holds up a hand before they can speak. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I just want to update you on the surgery before we go up to Recovery.”

“Thank God.” She can breathe again. Barely.

They step into a tiny room that feels not much larger than a walk-in closet and Dr. Psooy closes the door behind them once they’re all inside. “Please, sit down.” They seat themselves around a small circular table. “Norah’s surgery went well, and we were able to successfully repair the blockages on both sides. She was smaller than we anticipated, so the procedure took longer than expected. She did experience some additional unexpected bleeding, not enough to require a transfusion, but enough that we had to re-open the surgical site to re-cauterize the area.”

Mulder’s hand is clutched around her own, squeezing so hard that it hurts.

Dr. Psooy gives them a kind glance before she continues. “I wanted to prepare you as she will have some significant bruising. But her vitals are strong and she had no issues throughout the procedure. We’ll keep her in overnight to make sure that she’s voiding properly, but I expect that you’ll be able to go home tomorrow. The drainage tube will need to stay in for at least seven days, but the outpatient clinic will call you with an appointment to have it removed. It’s quick and shouldn’t cause her any discomfort.”

It’s almost too much to process, but she and Mulder both nod at the right places. All she can think about is how much she needs her baby in her arms, needs to hold her, needs to see for herself that she’s safely come through the other side and that this is over.

“All right, are you ready to go see her?” Dr. Psooy stands up so they stand up, too. “She probably won’t wake up for another half hour or so, but let’s get you up there.”

The trip back up to the third floor is a blur, but it all snaps into perfect clarity when they enter the recovery room. She doesn’t even notice Dr. Psooy leaving. She only has eyes for her baby, and she’d know those reddish curls anywhere.

Norah is completely still on the too-large bed, and she’s still got a blood pressure cuff wrapped around her tiny arm and an oximeter on her index finger. The steady beep of the EKG machine is strangely comforting. Maggie is sitting next to the bed with a clipboard in her hands, jotting down numbers, and she looks up as they approach.

“Hello, Mom and Dad. Your little one is doing just fine.”

Mulder tucks his fingers around Norah’s little hand and strokes her palm. “Hey there, squirt.”

Scully can’t move yet; she needs to take her in with her eyes first. She’s warm and pink and her chest rises and falls slowly. There’s an IV line running from her foot to a bag of saline, and her frog is still with her, snuggled up against her side.

“Is it okay if I take a look at her incision?” She needs to see, needs to get her bearings.

“Of course,” Maggie says, rising from the chair. “There you go.” She lifts the fabric of the hospital gown up past the roundness of Norah’s belly to reveal a stitched cut of only about three inches. A thin plastic tube runs from the incision site down to a plastic bulb secured to her side with surgical tape. The surrounding skin is blotchy, reds and purples, and Scully knows from experience that she’s going to have one nightmare of a bruise before long.

“Not very big at all,” Mulder says, not letting go of Norah’s hand. “Doesn’t look as bad as I’d thought it would.”

“No, it’s amazing what they can do these days.” Maggie looks down at their daughter fondly. “Once she’s all healed up, there won’t be much of a scar. And she’s so young… she won’t even remember it.”

Scully carefully pulls the striped gown back into place and leans down to kiss Norah’s forehead. She’s fine. Everything is okay.

The blood pressure monitor makes a low hissing noise as the cuff automatically inflates, and then there’s a slow series of beeps as it deflates. Maggie peeks at the monitor when it’s finished and writes down the numbers on Norah’s chart.

After a few more minutes, Norah starts to stir. Her eyelids flutter and her fingers open and close around Mulder’s. Now that she’s started, Scully can’t stop touching her. She nuzzles her soft warm cheeks. She kisses the tip of her nose and thinks about how Mulder always jokes that he hopes that Norah gets her nose and not his, but she knows that she doesn’t care either way.

Norah’s eyes aren’t open, but her first controlled action is to reach up and grab a handful of Scully’s hair in her fist. She has to stand half-hunched over, but she doesn’t care. What’s a little minor discomfort for her after all that Norah’s been through?

Maggie chuckles. “Mama’s hair, huh?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. For the first time today she feels like her lungs are working properly. “Every time I’d nurse her, she would wrap her fingers in my hair. It’s like her security blanket.” She’d been tempted to cut it shorter again but, right now, she’s glad she didn’t.

“If she’s still nursing, we recommend that you try as soon as she’s a little more awake. It’s soothing for babies—and parents—and it’s probably the best option for tummy as she’ll likely feel a bit nauseous.”

* * *

Norah begins to cry as she becomes more aware, keeping her death grip on Scully’s hair as Mulder whispers reassurances and strokes the side of her face. Thankfully, it’s not long before Maggie declares it safe to disconnect her from the various monitors.

Mulder scoops her up gently, cradling her in his arms like when she was a newborn, and they make their way down the hall to the room with the rocking chair where they’ll be spending the night.

Scully settles herself in the chair with a pillow in her lap so that Norah can lie across her more comfortably, and unbuttons her shirt and unclips the clasp on her nursing bra. While she does this, she can hear Mulder singing softly as he sways. “Jeremiah was a bullfrog, was a good friend of mine…”

Norah is still snuffling and fussing as he lays her down in Scully’s lap, but she stops as soon as Scully guides her to her breast and she latches on and begins sucking almost desperately. The relief she feels as her milk lets down is intense, and she runs her fingers through Norah’s hair.

Mulder sits down on the edge of the bed and watches them. “Scully?”

“Hmm?” She reluctantly takes her eyes off their beautiful girl to look at him.

“Tell God thank you for me the next time you talk to Him, okay?”

She nods, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. She’s overfull, a glass spilling over, with her love for him, for Norah, for Jackson. Maybe God will grace them with one last miracle and bring him home to them, too. “I will. I always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a huge thank you and all the hugs for Josie Lange, the best beta a girl could ask for, and to the utterly fantastic OnlyTheInevitable/Gaycrouton for being her wonderful self and taking on so much to make our little fandom world a better place.
> 
> Val, I hope this was everything you wanted! It was such a pleasure to write for you. :)


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